The Color of Distance

by Amy Thomson

  Moki sensed her anxiety, and enfolded her with reassurance. Juna let her worries slide. Let tomorrow take care of tomorrow. She was too busy living through today. She let herself float in the communion of the link.

  “It’s time for me to choose a new chief elder,” Ukatonen said. “Who do you think it should it be?”

  Anito’s ears spread in surprise. Why was he asking her? It was his decision.

  “You know the village better than I do,” Ukatonen went on, before Anito could think of a reply. “I want to know what you think.”

  Anito ducked her chin in thought. It was a difficult question. Only ten elders had enough seniority for serious consideration. Yiato and two others refused to be considered. Telito and Johito were clearly unfit for the job. One was too shy, the other too involved with her atwa to be impartial.

  “There are only five worth considering, en.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Marite, Enato, Mia to, Renito, and Ninto.”

  “Not Enato,” Ukatonen said. “He can’t make decisions, and Marito’s too young. She needs another five years before she’d be ready.”

  “That leaves three. Miato, Renito, and Ninto,” Anito said.

  “They’re all qualified, but which one’s best?”

  “Renito’s the oldest,” Anito said, “but her bami, Kina, is nearly as old as I am. If we pick Renito, Kina will have to wait even longer before he can become an elder.”

  “And Kina’s male. Narmolom needs more male elders. That leaves Miato and Ninto. Which one would you pick?”

  “Ninto is my tareena. I can’t pick fairly.”

  “But you will be an enkar someday, kene. You must learn to decide things like this. Tell me what you know about Ninto and Miato.”

  “They’re both about the same age, en. Miato’s sitik was almost picked for chief elder, and Miato is on the village council. My sitik thought highly of Miato, en. He usually took Miato’s advice. He’s known for his fairness and wisdom. I would trust him to make good decisions.”

  “And Ninto?”

  “Ninto was raised by Ilto. He relied on her counsel a lot. She understands people very well, and often can see a problem before it starts. You’ve seen how much she has helped me with Eerin. She’s really interested in the new creature. She’s wise, observant, and good with people. Ninto and Miato would both be good chief elders, en. It would be hard to decide between the two. I know I can’t.”

  A greyish-yellow mist passed over Ukatonen’s skin. “I know, kene. That is my problem as well. I must decide between the two of them.” A ripple of ironic amusement crossed his skin. “I had hoped that your advice would help. I guess I’ll just have to talk to Ninto and Miato.”

  They found Ninto first. She was in her room, busy making rope. She set her work aside as they came in, and offered them some fruit juice.

  “Kene, I wanted to talk with you about what you would do if you became chief elder.”

  Ninto’s ears spread wide and she turned pink in surprise. She looked from Ukatonen to Anito and back again. “Why are you considering me? There are older, more experienced elders to choose from.”

  “Because I think you’re qualified,” Ukatonen told her. “Do you want to be chief elder?”

  Anito saw shadows of indecision pass over Ninto.

  “It would be an honor to follow in the footsteps of my sitik, en. I love Narmolom greatly but—”

  “But what?”

  “Is it true that you will be taking Anito with you to become an enkar?”

  “Yes, kene, I must. She needs the training and status of an enkar in order to deal with the new creatures when they return.”

  “Then I will go with her and become an enkar. I withdraw my name from consideration for chief elder. I would have withdrawn it earlier, had I known you were considering me.”

  “No!” Anito protested. “Ninto, you mustn’t. Please don’t leave Narmolom because of me.”

  A ripple of fond amusement flowed across Ninto’s body. “It’s my life, Anito. I want to go with you and learn about the new creatures.” She looked at Ukatonen. “You need more people who are familiar with the new creatures. I know Eerin better than anyone in the village except for Anito.”

  “But what about Narmolom?” Anito asked. “What about Baha?”

  “Baha is ready to become an elder, and he can take over my atwa. I’ll miss Narmolom, but without you, without our sitik, it’s an empty place for me. Ukatonen and Eerin have shown me that there is more to life than Narmolom. It’s time to move on, if the enkar will accept me.”

  “They’ll be pleased,” Ukatonen said. “We need more elders like you.”

  “Who else were you considering for chief elder?” Ninto asked.

  “Miato.”

  “He’s a good choice. Narmolom will be well cared for.”

  “Thank you,” Ukatonen said. “Ninto, I want you to understand that you haven’t committed yourself to becoming an enkar yet. If you want to change your mind, you can.”

  Ninto shook her head. “I’ve decided.”

  Ukatonen flickered acknowledgment and thanks. “I need to tell Miato that he is my choice for chief.”

  After the usual arguments and protestations about not being qualified, Miato agreed to become chief elder. The villagers were surprised but pleased with Ukatonen’s choice. The skill and speed with which Miato had grown back his missing foot had impressed them. They were also surprised by Ukatonen’s fee. Instead of requesting that one of the villagers become an enkar, which was customary, he asked that the next five bami chosen to become elders should be male, and that the next seven tinka chosen as bami should also be male.

  There were flickers of subdued protest from the males. They were in such high demand during mating that the female villagers gave them many fine gifts for their favors. The females, however, looked pleased.

  The banquet celebrating Miato’s selection as chief elder was exceptionally lavish. Grateful villagers presented Ukatonen with preserved delicacies and other gifts, which he graciously accepted. The villagers performed a quarbirri telling the history of Narmolom. To Anito’s surprise, the last act told of Ilto’s discovery of the new creature, and Ilto’s death, a new chapter added to the official history of the village. The part of Ilto was danced by Ninto. Ukatonen played the part of the new creature, to the villagers’ intense amusement. He performed the part very well, although he’d only had a day to practice. Even Eerin understood what Ukatonen was doing, and rippled laughter along with the rest of the village. She joined the rest of the village in wild ripples of appreciation at the end of the performance.

  At last the party broke up and Anito headed back to her room, leaving Eerin and Moki to help clean up the remains of the banquet. Ukatonen was there, loading his pack.

  “You’re going?” Anito asked when he looked up.

  He flickered acknowledgment.

  “But— Why?”

  “I’ve been here a long time. You’ve got a new chief elder now. If I stay, I’ll only get in his way.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I’ll visit some of the neighboring villages, then spend some time talking to the other enkar. They need to know about Eerin.”

  “But you’ll be all alone!” Anito said.

  A shrug flickered across Ukatonen’s chest. “I’m an enkar. I’m used to it.” He thrust a few more things in his pack and tied it shut.

  “I’m leaving the gifts that I can’t carry with me,” he said. “Will you keep them for me until I return?”

  Anito flickered agreement, fighting back a mist of sadness. “When will you be back?”

  He shouldered his pack. “Look for me near the end of Menano.” He peered out the door. “Good, almost everyone is asleep. I wanted to leave quietly.” He stepped out on the balcony. “Come with me to the top of the tree, kene?” he asked.

  Anito flickered acknowledgment and followed him up the trunk. They came out into the cool, misty darkness. Eerin and Moki were busy supervising th
e tinka as they bundled up the food-soiled leaves left over from the banquet. They glanced up as Anito and Ukatonen emerged from the trunk. Moki’s ears lifted when he saw the enkar’s pack.

  “I came to say goodbye,” Ukatonen told them.

  “You’re leaving?” Eerin and Moki asked almost simultaneously, the brilliant pink flare of their surprise fading to grey sadness.

  “Why?” Eerin asked.

  “Because it’s time,” Ukatonen said. “But I’ll be back in a couple of months.”

  “But how will I manage Moki on my own?” Eerin asked.

  “You and Moki are good for each other. You don’t need me to interfere. If you need help, there’s Anito and a whole village of Tendu to give you advice.”

  Moki was the color of wet clay. He touched Ukatonen on the leg. Ukatonen knelt. “Will you take care of Eerin for me?”

  Moki nodded, his grey fading. “Yes, en.”

  “That’s good,” he told him. “I’m sure you’ll do very well.”

  Moki’s skin turned azure with pride, though a faint misting of sadness still overlaid it. Ukatonen brushed his knuckles across the bami’s shoulder affectionately. Then he stood, and did the same to Eerin.

  “Take care of Moki.”

  Eerin nodded and brushed his shoulder back, her eyes watering.

  Then he touched Anito on the shoulder. Anito felt a great wave of fondness sweep over her. “I’ll miss you,” she said in small, private patterns.

  “I’ll miss you too,” he said. “Take care of yourself while I’m gone.”

  Then he turned and swung off through the trees.

  Anito looked at the others, deep grey with sadness as she was herself. She touched the other two on the shoulder. “Let’s go,” she said. “It’s late. We should get some sleep.”

  Chapter 19

  I he next three months passed quietly. Juna got caught up on her research, documenting dozens of new species and filling in many linguistic details. Every day brought new discoveries. It was a busy and productive time.

  Moki learned to read and type with surprising speed, and soon began entering data on her spare computer. Although Moki’s written Standard was still rough and ungrammatical, he had an excellent eye for detail, often describing features of a plant or animal that Juna missed. She began having him check over her descriptions before entering them in the catalogue.

  Anito settled into village life, filling the role of junior elder, which involved doing the work scorned by more senior elders. Since she had been the bami of a chief, much of it was familiar. Juna helped out by gathering fruit, harvesting honey from Anito’s na trees, and netting fish out of the shrinking pools left behind by the floods.

  Ukatonen returned about three days before the end of the month of Menano. The villagers clustered around him in eager welcome. He greeted them with his usual dignified reserve, graciously accepting Miato’s offer of hospitality and a feast in his quarters. He greeted Anito, Moki, and Eerin with the same formal reserve as the other villagers. Anito was sent off to organize the banquet. She took Eerin, Moki, and several tinka with her to gather food and supplies.

  They came back with full gathering bags. Anito set the tinka to laying out the leaf-plates and cleaning the serving dishes. Eerin and Moki helped prepare and arrange the food. Set out before the waiting elders, it was a magnificent feast.

  Miato eyed it critically. “I’m sorry that we have nothing better to offer you than this, en,” he said in formal patterns. “Please do us the honor of accepting this meager meal.”

  IIto had used the same polite formula with honored guests, Anito recalled. She still missed her sitik terribly.

  Ukatonen looked up at Anito, his expression carefully neutral. “Thank you, kene,” he said to Miato. “It will do.”

  The ritual formulas of politeness completed, the elders commenced eating. Anito stood by, motioning to the tinka when a dish needed to be replenished or carried away.

  At last the elders safc back and belched politely.

  “I’m sorry that we don’t have more food to offer you, en,” Miato said, as though the leaf plates around them weren’t still half full.

  “It’s all right,” Ukatonen replied, as though his stomach didn’t form a visible bulge in his long, lean body. “I shouldn’t burden you with my hunger, kene; not when I’ve come to ask a favor of you and your village.”

  “Narmolom is in your debt, en, after all you’ve done for us. If there is anything at all we can do for you, we will.”

  Anito repressed a flicker of amusement. It was clear that Miato had not been chief elder for very long. Her sitik would never have made such a blanket promise, especially not to an enkar.

  “I would like to take Anito, Eerin, and Moki away with me for a month to a month and a half.”

  “She will miss our mating,” Miato pointed out.

  “She mated with the lyali-Tendu. I will bring her back in time to lay her eggs, so that Narmolom will not be deprived of her narey. It’s important, or I wouldn’t ask. The other enkar want to see the new creature and talk to Anito about Eerin.”

  Miato was still for a moment, his chin ducked, as though he were pondering a decision that everyone in the room knew had already been made.

  “When will you be going?”

  “Tomorrow, if you will permit it, kene.”

  Miato flickered agreement.

  “Thank you, kene,” Ukatonen said. “The enkar are in debt to you for your sacrifice.”

  The talk turned to trivialities. Ukatonen asked about the villagers, displaying a deep knowledge of things that had happened in his absence. The other villagers were very impressed, but Anito knew that Ukatonen would have spent the last few days spying on the village.

  Anito motioned to the tinka to clear away the food. When the feast dishes were cleaned and put away, she climbed down the trunk, slid into her warm, moist bed, and fell asleep instantly.

  Ukatonen woke Juna and Moki early the next morning. Juna sat up groggily.

  “What is it?” she said, yawning.

  “Start packing, we’re going on a trip. The enkar want to see you.”

  Juna looked over at Anito, still sleeping in her bed of leaves.

  “Let her sleep,” Ukatonen said. “She was up very late last night.”

  They filled traveling packs with the gifts the villagers had given Ukatonen. When they were done, Moki laid out a quick breakfast of fruit and honeycomb and woke Anito.

  The villagers escorted them out of the tree and followed them with farewells until they reached the border of Narmolom’s territory. Ninto was the last to see them off. She touched Anito on the shoulder.

  “Have a safe journey,” Ninto said. “Come back soon.”

  Juna saw Anito return Ninto’s affectionate touch. “I will,” she said, and turned to go.

  They went north and inland, toward the distant green-shouldered mountains. After a week of hard traveling, they crossed the low range of ancient, rounded mountains and the jungle around them changed. The trees were taller and wider than what Juna was used to. The canopy was denser, the branches thick with epiphytes, and heavy with fruit.

  “This is the forest of the enkar,” Ukatonen said when Juna remarked on the change. “Typhoons don’t come in this far. They’re deflected by those mountains we crossed.”

  “It’s like village land, only more so,” Anito said.

  “We gather seed from the strongest and most fruitful trees from villages up and down the coast,” Ukatonen told them. “We’ve spent thousands of generations selecting and improving them. Guano from the lyali-Tendu, and greenstone from the mountain people make the land fertile. The enkar carry it in from all over. We have to support more people on less land than the villagers do, and we can’t shift our boundaries when the forest wears out the way you na-Tendu can.”

  “But I thought the enkar traveled alone,” Anito said in surprise.

  “We do, but sometimes we need a place to rest and take counsel with other enkar
. We come here, or to one of our other valleys up and down the coast, to rest, to learn, and to train new enkar.” Ukatonen paused, then said, “You wait here. I’ll let the others know that we’ve arrived.”

  He climbed to the top of the tree, and let out a deep, booming call. After listening for a moment, he repeated it. In the distance, they heard a reply. Ukatonen responded.

  Half an hour later, four enkar came swinging through the trees. They greeted Ukatonen with affectionate shoulder brushings and embraces.

  “Anito, Eerin, Moki,” Ukatonen said, “these are Opantonen, Besato-nen, Garitonen, and Hutatonen.”

  Each enkar lifted his chin in acknowledgment. They were taller than the village Tendu, with long, solemn muzzles. They moved with the same easy grace as Ukatonen. Even if Juna had known nothing at all about the Tendu, it would have been obvious that these four and Ukatonen were somehow related.

  Their tall, elegant guides led them through the leafy, sun-dappled cathedral of the forest until they came to a circle of six immense na trees. They followed the guides to a low mound in the center of the circle of trees. Hutatonen let out a loud, booming call, and dozens of Tendu appeared, climbing down the trees or walking from out of the understory that moments before seemed completely empty.

  The enkar gathered around the mound, waiting expectantly.

  Anito touched Ukatonen’s arm. “Are they all enkar?” she asked in tiny, awestruck patterns.

  Ukatonen rippled quiet amusement. “Yes, they are.”

  “I’ve never seen so many Tendu in one place before,” Anito said.

  “This is only one group. There are others scattered throughout the Tendu lands.”

  “How many enkar are there?” Juna inquired.

  “Less than there once were,” Ukatonen replied. “Most of these trees are half-empty.”